


bring it to the top

by theundiagnosable



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, ft. a destination wedding meddling siblings bed sharing and the cha cha slide, im not even gonna play with yall this is just every trope i could fit into one fun summer fic, now with podfic!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 14:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11277267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theundiagnosable/pseuds/theundiagnosable
Summary: “What’s going on, Matts?”“Maybe I just want to do something fun, I don’t know.” Auston says, defensive. “Maybe I’m being nice.”“Okay,” Mitch says. He doesn’t sound convinced. “And...”“And,” Auston winces, already regretting every decision he’s ever made, “I sort of need you to pretend to date me so I can win a bet with my sister.”





	bring it to the top

**Author's Note:**

> completely ignores all events of summer 2017. now with podfic!!

It’s all his little sister’s fault. 

Both of his sisters, maybe, because none of this would be happening if Alex wasn’t getting married, but Breyana’s the one chirping him for not having a wedding date even though this charity thing starts in twenty minutes and Auston can’t find his left shoe.

And here’s the thing: Auston knows he could get a date. He could get a bunch of dates. He’s _Auston Matthews_ , which, at least in Toronto, is enough to make up for his weird nose and the way his hair kind of flops in his face. Finding a date isn’t a problem. He just doesn’t see the point in going out and- and _wooing_ someone just for the sake of it; fencing himself into a weekend with someone he has to be all polite and attractive with who’s probably just into him for the instagram followers. And that’s reasonable, he thinks. So what if B thinks he’s an antisocial loser, he honestly couldn’t care less. 

“You’re an antisocial loser,” she says, loud on speakerphone – and, fine, Auston maybe cares a little.

“Seriously,” Breyana goes on, while Auston digs through a pile of shoes on his hands and knees, searching for his other Jordan, “you’re in the NHL. How are you still like this?”

Outside, Mitch honks, impatient. Auston’s neighbours are going to hate him. 

“You’re making it a whole thing,” he says. “It’s not.” Marns lays on the horn again, and Auston can hear his phone vibrating on the counter with a million texts, all of them probably a mix of all-caps screaming and too many emojis, the Mitch Marner Special.

 _Fuck the Jordans_ , he thinks, flustered enough to take the L and put on some tennis shoes. Fucking tragic, is what this is. 

Breyana’s sighing dramatically when he grabs his phone, balancing on one leg and pulling on his shoes with his free hand. “Aren’t you lonely? All alone in freezing cold Canada with no one to hold-”

“First,” Auston says, “gross. Second, it’s actually pretty warm here, in summer.” He balances his travel mug with his wallet and his phone, shoving the front door open with his elbow and making his way out.

“Do you hear that? That’s the sound of denial, Auston.”

And it’s the stress of being late for a presser, or that he was up playing COD with the boys ‘til 2 am last night, or that it’s the offseason and his brain is hibernating until October – whatever the reason, he talks without thinking.

“Maybe I’m already dating someone,” he says, and spills what feels like half his coffee down the front of his jeans when he tries to get his keys out. So it’s going to be that kind of day. “Not like you’d know.”  

Breyana scoffs.  “Oh, please, I will bet a hundred dollars you’re full of crap.”  

Auston considers his options, and decides on holding his phone in his mouth while he locks the door. It works, freeing up his hands even if it’s not exactly suave. Doesn’t let him speak, though, so he can’t backtrack when B talks, taking his silence for something it’s not.

“Wait,” she says. “Really? You actually for real are dating someone? Auston!”

And- She just sounds so excited, and not even in a chirping way, that even when his phone’s out of his mouth, he doesn’t correct her, just says, “Yeah, I’ll take that hundred bucks on paypal or direct transfer, whatever’s easier.”

“Who?” 

“Who what?”

“Who are you dating, come on!”

Auston shoves his keys in his pocket and turns around. The first thing he sees is Marns parked at the end of the driveway singing along to some song on the radio that Auston can’t hear. Auston smiles without meaning to, doesn’t realize he’s staring until Mitch catches his eye. He doesn’t even look embarrassed at being caught singing, just waves and smiles all big and goofy like seeing Auston made his day, even though it’s barely eight AM.

Auston’s really going to miss this, when he goes home for the summer.

“Hello-o?” Breyana says, tinny over the phone. “Are the Toronto phone lines preventing you from telling your favourite sister who you’re dating?”

So, really, it’s entirely her fault. 

\-------

Auston brings it up a couple days later, when they’re chilling at Mitch’s place after their end-of-season meetings with management. He brings over smoothies and agrees to watch _How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days_ , even though it’s a garbage movie, just so Mitch’ll be in a good mood. Not that he’s ever really not. Can’t hurt, Auston figures.

“Hey,” He says, when he thinks it’s been long enough. They’re sprawled out on the couch, Mitch’s feet in Auston’s lap. “Remember how I said Alex is getting married?”

Marns, chewing on the straw from his drink, doesn’t look away from the two leads riding a motorcycle on screen. Rom-coms are fucking dumb. “Oh, yeah. That’s soon, right?”

“Couple weeks,” Auston says. “Beach wedding. You should come with.”

It takes a second for his words to sink in, then: “Wha- really?” Mitch spits out his straw and sits up real fast, like one of those meercats on the nature channel, then frowns, suspicious. “You never ask me to hang out.” 

“I ask you to hang out.”

“No, _I_ ask _you_ to hang out and you pretend to not want to and come anyways.”

And- that makes Auston sound like kind of an asshole. He’s not, usually. He doesn’t try not to spend time with Marns. The opposite, actually, ‘cause he’s still in Toronto and their season’s been done for ages and he doesn’t even have a good excuse. Just - they’ve only known each other for a few months, even if it doesn’t feel that way, and it’s not- friendships are weird, and Auston would literally rather die than seem clingy.

 He shrugs instead of trying to defend himself, circles Mitch’s ankle with his thumb and pinky. It’s almost an apology. Mitch sighs, the way he always does when he thinks Auston’s being Difficult, and pauses the movie.

“What’s going on, Matts?”

“Maybe I just want to do something fun, I don’t know.” Auston says, defensive. “Maybe I’m being nice.”

“Okay,” Mitch says. He doesn’t sound convinced. “And...”

“And,” Auston winces, already regretting every decision he’s ever made, “I sort of need you to pretend to date me so I can win a bet with my sister.”

Mitch throws his head back and laughs. So, y’know. At first, it’s fine – Auston expected this, and it’s hard not to feel kind of happy when Marns is laughing like that – except it goes on for way, way too long, enough to make Auston feel pretty stupid. Which, fine, he admittedly deserves.

“Oh my god,” Mitch gasps out between giggles, “what the fuck, you’re such a disaster, this is amazing.”

 “Don’t have to be a jerk about it,” Auston sulks, and pushes Mitch’s feet out of his lap. Mitch swings them back immediately, keeping Auston in place and not even having the grace to look apologetic about it.

“You’re just- you act so smooth, and then _this_ -” He snickers himself into something resembling seriousness, wiping at his eyes. “How did this even happen?”

“B was bugging me about not bringing someone to events. So I told her I was dating someone.” He winces. “You.” 

“You could get any date you want,” Mitch says, incredulous, which is pretty flattering.  “You could get a _model_. Why would you say you’re dating _me_?” 

The way he says that, _me_ , like he’s oblivious to the fact that he’s been flirted with literally every time he and Auston have been in public together, is enough to make Auston frown. “I don’t- You were the first person I saw. I panicked.” It sounds less plausible when he says it out loud, like he’s trying to cover up for something. So, okay. Looks like he’s resorting to begging. “Please just come.”

 Mitch’s looks at him, eyebrows raised. “Know what I think?” he says, real serious. “You want to spend time with me. Last hurrah, before the offseason.”

Auston rolls his eyes, can’t stop the corner of his lips from tugging up. “I never said that.”

“ _Very_ strongly implied it, though.” Mitch pokes at Auston’s stomach with his toes, and Auston swats at him half-heartedly.

“Didn’t.”

“You looooove me,” Mitch drawls, singsong. “I’m your bestie.”

And then he starts making kissy faces, all bratty, so Auston has to shove him off the couch and flop down on top of him to pin him. Mitch writhes under him, tries kicking at Auston’s ankles, but Auston’s got forty pounds on him, and Mitch eventually gives up.

“What the shit,” he wheezes, flat out. “Not fair, Matthews.” He always complains, even though Auston wins nine out of ten times they wrestle, and the one time Mitch won is ‘cause he cheated and bit Auston’s shoulder.

 “Just ‘cause you’re small-”

“Just ‘cause _you’re_ fat-”

Auston ignores that one – it’s all muscle, he knows he’s a beast – and cranes his neck so he can meet Mitch’s eyes. “Are you going to be my fake date or not?”

Mitch looks back at him. There’s this weird moment where it’s just the both of them staring, Auston at Mitch and Mitch at Auston, and Mitch looks almost worried, a little crease between his brows. He’s smiling again in half a second, though, so fast that Auston wonders if he was imagining anything else. 

“Can I wear my purple suit?”

Auston shrugs, still sprawled on top of Mitch. “You can wear what you want.” 

“And you’ll admit that I’m the bestest friend ever?”

An actual fucking five year old, honestly, this is why the guys keep calling them kids. Auston rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

“Say it,” Mitch orders, really imperious, considering he’s trapped under Auston and can move approximately one and a half limbs. He’s always kind of bossy like that, which would get annoying, except for that Auston always listens and misses it when Marns isn’t around. It’s whatever.

Mitch stares at Auston, waiting expectantly. Auston sighs. “You’re my bestest friend ever, Marns.”

“Knew it.” Mitch grins, big and toothy, and reaches up with his free hand to mess up Auston’s hair. “Okay. I’ll be your fake boyfriend.”

Auston exhales again, this time from relief. “I- thanks, man. Really.” This was the hard part. Now all he’s got to do is hang out with his buddy for a weekend, maybe hold his hand or something in front of Breyana. Easy.

“’course.” Marns left his hand in Auston’s hair, and he’s kind of petting it now, in a way that’d be weird if it was anyone but him. It _is_ him, though, so Auston kind of tilts his head up to give him a better angle, but, like. Subtly. Last thing he needs is Mitch getting the wrong idea.

They stay like that for a while, sprawled together on Mitch’s fluffy IKEA carpet. It’s nice. Peaceful.

Eventually, Mitch pulls his hand back and taps Auston’s nose. “Can we get up now? Before Marty has to revenge-kill you for suffocating me?”

“I don’t know,” Auston says, pretending to think about it. He sort of wishes Marns was still playing with his hair. He could have fallen asleep like that. “I’m kind of comfy.”

It’s only mostly a joke, but Mitch laughs anyways. “Fuck off, you’re my fake boyfriend now. You have to be nice to me.” His whole body shakes under Auston’s when he laughs. Auston gets up real quick after that, because popping a boner because of your best friend moving under you would be extremely unchill.

He’s maybe going to regret this.

\-------

Between training and listening to what seems like every single girl in his family losing their shit over dresses and catering and whatever else girls lose their shit over before a wedding, the next two weeks pass pretty quickly.

Auston’s kind of worried at first, that things’ll be awkward with Marns. He shouldn’t have bothered – worst that happens is the groupchat gives them shit for going to the wedding together, even though they don’t know about the dating story, just think it’s a codependent rookie thing.

 _thanks for not saying anything_ , Auston texts Marns, separately, while Gards is chirping them for being hockey-married. It’s maybe awkward to bring it up, but it’d be more awkward not to. _i kno its weird._

 _its cool,_ Mitch sends, then: _dont want them to be jelly cuz im the new face of the gay rights movement_ , with a bunch of rainbow emojis. And that one’s, like, objectively a pretty not-straight thing to say, but also Auston’s heard Mitch say the word ‘bro-job’ out loud, so he very pointedly Does Not Assume. Team is off-limits for that kind of stuff.

Doesn’t matter anyways. Not like it’s a real date. It’s _Mitch_.

Auston buys both their plane tickets, because that’s probably the least he can do. Mitch is really into the last hurrah thing, sending him a million links to, like, Martha Stewart articles about destination weddings, right up until they get on the plane and he has to stop using his phone. It’s a close thing.

The flight attendants bring them drinks and little slices of banana bread before they even take off, because first class is legit like that. Mitch starts stuffing his face straight away.

“That’s not in our diet plan,” Auston says, just for the face that Marns’ll make.

“Everything’s in my diet plan,” Mitch says, the way he has for as long as Auston’s known him. “Gotta bulk up.” 

Auston has this weird mental image of Marns’ head pasted onto some jacked up bodybuilder, and in the time it takes for him to forcibly eject that image from his head, _no thank you absolutely not_ , Mitch finishes his own banana bread and starts on Auston’s. 

“So,” he says, mouth full. A little crumb goes flying out. “When’d we start dating?”

“Like, a week ago on your floor,” Auston says, and Mitch rolls his eyes so big it looks like they’re going to fall out of his head.

 “Like we’re going to tell people that, give me a break, man. What’s our _story_?” Auston doesn’t even get a chance to respond. “You’re pretty emotionally stunted,” Mitch says, and before Auston can figure out whether or not to be insulted, he goes on, “so I think I probably made the first move.”

“I,” Auston starts, then decides that some things aren’t worth arguing over, even if he definitely would have been the one to start things. “Fine.”

“So here’s what I’m thinking,” Mitch says, getting into Auston’s space and gesturing all enthusiastic like he’s giving a business pitch. “You and me, empty arena. Soft mood lighting, some music in the background, like, George Michael or whatever. Then, bam: up on the jumbotron, ‘Will you go out with me, Auston’.”

“You weren’t _proposing_ ,” Auston says, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Marns apparently considers George Michael peak romance. He can feel himself starting to blush, for whatever reason, so he chugs half his little plastic cup of water to make himself get a grip. Mitch is still staring at him, eager, waiting for a response. “Maybe, just. You asked me out after practice one day.”

“Oh,” Mitch says, and wilts just enough that Auston feels bad, which is actually the most stupid thing in the entire world. He’s not going to feel bad for fake rejecting his friend’s fake not-proposal, what the fuck. “Yeah, that’s cool. Romance is dead and its killer is named Auston Matthews.”

“Fuck off,” Auston says. “I’m romantic.”

Mitch snorts. Auston decides to cut his losses and starts digging through his carryon to find his headphones. The quiet lasts about 0.2 seconds before Mitch tugs at his sleeve.

“One more thing,” he says, then, when Auston takes too long to respond, he kicks him right in the shins.  “Matts.”

The lady in the aisle seat next to them is shooting Auston a dirty look. “What?”

“What do I call you?” he says. “Like. Babe?” Auston must pull a face, because Mitch says, “Okay. Not babe. Matty-bear,” he tries. “Pookiekins?”

“What the fuck,” Auston says flatly. “You’re my boyfriend, not my mom.”

Mitch grins all evil, wags his tongue out in that weird way he always does. Auston realizes his mistake. “Your mom calls you pookiekins?”

“No.” Auston says, because that was _one time_ , and Mitch’s tongue is still peeking out, and things are a lot right now. He steals back what’s left of his banana bread. “Shut up.”

Mitch pats Auston’s knee, real sweet. “Whatever you say, honey bunches.”

Auston puts in his headphones and decides not to dignify that one with a response. Marns doesn’t push it, starts browsing the movie options on the little built in screens. The rest of the flight’s pretty chill –dozens of roadies have made them experts at travelling together. Mitch doesn’t chirp Auston for having to close his eyes and cling to the armrest during takeoff. Auston doesn’t chirp Mitch for falling asleep on his shoulder even though it’s barely a three hour flight. Friend stuff.

It’s only a short drive to the resort once they land. Mitch spends the whole time pressed up against the window looking outside, even though the sun’s starting to go down and it’s mostly just road. Still pretty, from what Auston can see.

The hotel’s just visible in the distance when Mitch asks, conversational, “Think you’re going to get all tan?”

“More than you,” Auston chirps back automatically, and Mitch reaches back to try and swat at him without looking. The gesture reminds Auston. “Touching,” he says. Mitch doesn’t look away from the window.

“What is?”

“No, like- we didn’t talk about touching. Boundaries.”

Mitch shrugs, nonchalant, still doesn’t look at Auston. It feels a little purposeful, this time, something a little too balanced when he says, “We touch all the time, I’m cool with whatever.”

Auston sighs, annoyed. “Really helpful, Marns, thanks.”

 “Gotchu, fam.” Mitch says, does these stupid little finger guns even though he one hundred percent knows that Auston was being sarcastic. And it’s- he’s right, technically, because they do touch all the time. There’s a big fucking difference, though, between that kind of touching and being a couple in front of Auston’s entire family.

“We should at least have a plan,” he tries again.

“Lame,” Mitch says. Fed up, Auston tugs on the back of Mitch’s shirt to make him turn around and make eye contact. “What, Matts?”

“Mitch.”

Mitch sighs, smoothing down his shirt. “Look, I meant it, you can do whatever. I’m- you know I’m chill with PDA.”

 “What if it’s weird?” Auston asks. He’s not sure why it’s bothering him so much, Mitch being so nonchalant about this stuff like it’s nothing. ‘Cause, okay, it’s not like Auston’s thought about holding Marns’ hand or kissing him or anything, ‘cause that wouldn't be very bros, but it’s- it wouldn’t be nothing. He knows that.

He’s trying to think how to put that into words without making things awkward, except then Mitch gets this determined look on his face like he’s queuing up for a shootout, leans in, and kisses him.

It’s barely a peck, right at the corner of Auston’s mouth, over before he can even react. Like: one second he’s getting kissed by his best friend and his brain is exploding, the next Marns is back on his own side of the seat, watching Auston a little warily.

“There,” he says. “We kissed, it’s not weird anymore. Okay?”

“I-” Auston starts, and snaps his mouth shut before he can say something he’s going to regret. There’s- all he can think is how soft Mitch’s lips are, which is just very weird on a whole lot of levels. His brain’s still not working. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Mitch echoes, and there’s a second of silence that hinges on awkwardness before he looks over the driver’s shoulder and grabs Auston’s arm, excited. “Look, we’re here! It’s so nice, dude!”

Auston kind of wants to give him shit for being all little-kid enthusiastic, but then he looks out the window and can't bring himself to do it. The resort’s this tall, glass-looking building, shiny in the setting sun.

“Your sister is clearly the Matthews with the best taste,” Mitch says approvingly while Auston’s fishing in his pocket for cash to pay the driver.

“Clearly,” he says without missing a beat. “I mean, I’m friends with you, so-”

“Shhhh,” Mitch elbows him, climbs over Auston and his garment bag – which, okay, not like Auston has to wear that or anything – to get out of the car.

They lug their bags in, slow, waiting in line at the check in counter. Auston’s peering over people’s heads, trying to catch a glimpse of his family, so he doesn’t see it coming when someone attack-hugs him from behind.

“You made it!”

“Alex, hey,” Auston turns around to hug her back, smiling.

“First time anyone’s been this excited to see you, huh?” His dad’s walking towards them, sandwiched between Breyana and Auston’s mom, all tanned.

“Hey, dad,” he says, disentangling himself from his sister. “Nice chirp. Alex, guys, you remember Marns-”

“Congratulations!” Mitch has met Alex all of three times, ages ago. That doesn’t stop him from giving her a Mitch Hug, Trademark-Copyright-Whatever. It’s weird to see him looking like the tall one for once.

Auston leaves them to it, sidles over to Breyana and doesn’t actually _say_ ‘I told you so’, but thinks it really hard in her direction. She’s staring at Mitch, vaguely impressed.

“So it’s true?” she asks. “You guys are actually a thing?”  

“I also take cheques,” Auston says, and she shoves him. It’s kind of a hug, so he figures that counts as hello. “You remember Marns, or should I reintroduce-”

“No, Auston, I forgot him in the two months since we came to visit you.”

“Brat,” he says, fond, and turns his attention to where Mitch is having his hand shaken by Auston’s dad, getting tugged into a hug by his mom.

“Mitch, it’s so nice to have you here with us.” She sounds really, honestly happy to see him, the same way she sounded when Auston called to say they were together and he was bringing him as a plus-one. Add parents to the list of people who love Mitch, he guesses.

Mitch pats her back, pretty composed even when being strangled by a mom-hug. “Thanks for having me, Mrs. Matthews.”

“What did I tell you about that?” she scolds good-naturedly. “It’s Ema, please.”

“Ah,” Mitch ducks his head, a little bashful, and Auston takes pity on him.

“Mom, leave him alone,” he says, and his mom swats at his arm, affectionate.

“You see what your son is like?” she asks Auston’s dad, who laughs. Auston can feel Breyana watching them, so he flings an arm across Mitch’s shoulders, hopes it comes off as coupley. Mitch hardly even reacts, just leans a little against Auston and looks between his parents.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he offers. “Or, like-”

“So polite,” Auston’s mom says, charmed. Auston bumps his hip against Marns’, knows he’ll get the chirp. “No honey, you boys go get settled in. Auston, remember-”

“Shirt ironed for the rehearsal dinner, I know, mom.” He makes a face, but can't help but soften when she drags him down for one more hug.

“We missed you, sweetie.”

“You too, mama.” 

He resigns himself to getting chirped within an inch of his life for the whole ‘mama’ thing, is waiting for it the whole time they're in the elevator and walking down the hall, but it never comes. Marns is just on his phone, looking through all the snapchat geofilters for the hotel, showing Auston the funny ones. Probably  he just forgot to chirp, tired from the flight and all. Auston’s pretty grateful, anyways, like maybe this thing isn’t going to be as weird as he thought.

And then they get to the room and see the bed.

Bed, singular.

“You’re fucking with me,” Auston says, and Mitch snorts, amused.

“Dude, if you wanted to snuggle, you could’ve just asked.”

Auston doesn’t dignify that with an argument. “I changed the booking,” he says, staring at the gigantic king bed like it's personally offending him, because it sort of is. “I told them I was bringing my boyfriend.”

Mitch dumps his bags on the ground, flops down on the bed like he’s testing it out. “’cept you didn’t do a really good job, apparently. God, this is comfy.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Auston drops his stuff next to Marns', drags him to his feet. “We’re going to go switch rooms.”  

“Sure,” Mitch says, agreeable. “Only let’s check out the beach first, okay?”

“It’s getting dark,” Auston hedges, but now it’s Marns’ turn to grab him, tugging him back towards the door.

“Which is exactly why we have to go ASAP,” he says. “C’mon, front desk’ll be there after. Race you to the water?”

Auston hesitates, but only long enough to shove Mitch behind him, sprinting for the door to get a head start.

“Asshole!” Mitch laughs, but he’s right on Auston’s heels, taking the steps two at a time after him until they get to the exit.

The sun’s all but gone, so the beach isn’t anything like crowded, just a few people strolling around. A couple kids building a sand castle. They come across some of Alex’s high school friends that Auston recognizes from home, here for the wedding, who rope him and Mitch into joining their game of beach volleyball. That’s maybe a mistake, ‘cause yeah, it’s beach volleyball, but they’re also pro athletes. Winning at sports is their literal job. Alex’s friends probably should have expected this.

After their ninth consecutive point, Mitch jumps into Auston’s arms for a celly like they just won a Stanley Cup. “ _Yes_ , Matts! What a play!”   

“Fucking right,” Auston bumps his fist, kicks up a little sand at his ankles to make him laugh. They’re _those_ assholes right now, he knows, but can’t bring himself to care.

It’s fun, here with Marns like this.

Even without the sun, it’s humid enough that they’re both soaked with sweat by the end of the game, so they head back to the room to get cleaned up. Auston’s going to go down and get them transferred to a room with two beds, he honestly is, except when he gets out of the shower Mitch is on the phone ordering room service, a menu laid out in front of him. And Auston’s _starving._

They eat all laid out on the bed, flipping through the Spanish TV channels and trying to guess what’s going on. Auston follows a little, even though they’re talking fast, but it’s more fun to listen to Marns’ attempts at dubbing them. It’s relaxing, easy in a way Auston was starting to forget – they haven’t been playing for a couple weeks, now, but it’s still a weird feeling to have this much free time to just hang out, no practice or anything.  

His eyes get heavy sooner rather than later, and Mitch can maybe see that, because he looks at Auston, kind of hesitant. “We can- I don’t mind sharing for one night, if you’re tired.” He sounds almost nervous, which is weird, because Auston’s shared a bed with tons of his bros before, passing out after a tourney or having too much to drink. It’s whatever.

“Why not?” Auston agrees. “You’re scrawny, anyways.”  

Mitch makes a face, swats at Auston’s ass when he gets up to get ready for bed.

It’s not until he’s in the bathroom with the door shut, staring at himself in the mirror, that it really hits him. They kissed earlier, and now they’re sharing a bed, and both times no one was even watching. Auston- he doesn’t know what to do with that, the weird feeling it puts in his gut. They're either really good at fake dating or really bad. He's not sure which.

He spends too long in the washroom, debating whether or not it’d be weird to sleep in just his boxers, wondering why the fuck it even matters. It does, though – he decides on a t-shirt as well, does his teeth and even flosses before he makes himself sack up and head back into the room.

When he does, Mitch is sitting on the foot of the bed, cross-legged. The TV’s still on the background, some soap opera, but he’s not paying attention anymore.

“I can hear you thinking,” Auston says, raps a knuckle on Marns’ head as he climbs into bed and sits back against the headboard. Mitch watches him, scoots over when Auston pokes at him with his feet under the covers.

“Your family doesn’t seem surprised that you’re dating a guy,” Mitch says. It’s a question.

Auston shrugs. He was kind of expecting this conversation, is honestly a little surprised it’s taken this long. “They know I like both.” He watches Mitch carefully for any kind of reaction, but he just nods, thoughtful. He’s quieter than he’d usually be. “Does, uh. Does your family not know about you?”

“I never said I liked guys,” Mitch says, and Auston wants to sink into the floor and die.

“I didn’t-” he stammers. _Matthews, you fucking idiot_. “I wasn’t trying to imply- like, it’s not like you _seem_ -” He cuts himself off when he realizes Mitch is grinning. “You’re fucking with me,” Auston realizes, and Mitch’s smirk gets bigger.

“Yep.”

“Asshole,” Auston exhales, relieved.

Mitch traces the floral pattern on the duvet, looks over at Auston kind of wryly. “I agreed to fake date you pretty fast,” he says. “You really thought I was straight?”

“I don’t know,” Auston says. It still feels kind of weird, talking about liking dudes with a teammate, all open like this. It’s not really something he advertises. “We’re bros. That’s what bros do. Help, I mean.”

 Somewhere in the middle of him speaking the look on Marns’ face has changed, this little furrow in his brow. It’s – it’s not guarded, because Mitch is anything but guarded, but it’s as close as he can get; and it’s an abrupt change from how he was looking at Auston before.

“Marns. You good?”

Mitch blinks, like he’s snapping out of it. “I- yeah, dude. Sorry. Bros.” He crawls up the bed towards Auston and tugs him into a hug. “Thanks for telling me.”

“Yeah.” Auston pats his back. His hair smells like the hotel shampoo, not his regular stuff. It throws Auston off more than it should; then _that_ throws him off even more, the fact that he apparently misses Marns’ nasty Axe shampoo.

Mitch pulls away too soon, bounces onto the other side of the bed and sets the mattress springs creaking like crazy. Auston watches him pull the covers up to his chin and hug one of his pillows, then figures it’s probably creepy to watch your teammate sleep and rolls onto his side, facing the window.

It’s really warm, under the covers with Mitch.

It’s quiet for a few moments, only a little awkward. Then:

“Hey, Aus,” Mitch says. Auston turns to look at him. “If you’re the gay friend, and I’m the gay friend, who’s flying the plane?”

Auston snorts. “Night, Mitchy.”

“Night, babe-a-licious.”

 It takes a second for that to register, then Auston’s laughing, partly from surprise and partly from the sheer ridiculousness of it all.  His sister’s getting married and he gets to room with his best friend and they kissed and it wasn’t even weird. It was stupid to worry about this. “You’re so dumb.”

“Babe-a-saurus rex.” Mitch says, propping himself up on an elbow. “Mancakes with maple syrup.”

Still laughing, Auston throws his pillow in Mitch’s general direction, because those were godawful enough to deserve it. He hears the small ‘oof’ as it whacks Marns right in the face. Baseball skills coming in handy.

“Bonus pillow!” Mitch crows, triumphant. “What up. Can’t touch this.”

They end up tossing the pillow back and forth for way too long, and Auston has to laugh into his shirt to avoid being loud and getting complaints from their neighbours. And he’s not going to get cheesy about it or anything. But, okay-

As far as last hurrahs go, this one seems to be going alright.

\-------

The first time Auston wakes up, it’s to the sound of ‘Walking On Sunshine’. He blinks, face to face with the pillow that Marns shoved between them at some point; is about to complain, but the music’s already done so he rolls over and falls back asleep.

The next time he wakes up, the room is brighter and Mitch is standing in front of the mirror, already dressed.

“Morning,” he says, and Auston grunts. “Want the shower?”

“Ugh,” Auston says, still all foggy with sleep. “Was I dreaming or did your alarm go off earlier?”

“Nope,” Mitch says. “Or, like- yeah it went off, no to the dreaming.”

“Wow, so, fuck you,” Auston says, and buries his head back under his pillow to try and hold on to the last tendrils of sleep. He nearly manages it, too, can feel the sun on the bed all warm and inviting; is almost out when Mitch comes over and perches on the side of the bed, shoves the general area of Auston’s butt under the sheets.

Auston lifts the pillow just enough to peek out with one eye. “Am I dreaming again?”

“Seven hours ‘til the rehearsal,” Mitch says, while Auston debates whether or not he sort of just accidentally confessed to dreaming about Mitch touching his butt. Which- one time, that was _one time_. “We’re going on a sightseeing tour.”

He starts tugging the covers off of Auston, only to have them snatched back real fast, because _fuck no_. “We’re on _vacation_ ,” Auston tries, plaintive. They’re not even really arguing yet, and he already knows he’s going to lose.

Mitch rolls his eyes. “We’re in a new country and I want to explore. Come be a supportive fake boyfriend.”

“Why don’t _you_ support _me_?” Auston challenges, muffled by his pillow. “Why don’t we try that one?” 

“Auston.”

“Mitchell.”

 Mitch flops down next to him, lifts the pillow so he can stare right at Auston. Auston blinks, squinting up at him all silhouetted in the sun. “C’mon,” Mitch says, and there’s something in his voice that wasn’t there before, catching Auston unawares. “It’s our last chance before summer.”

Auston caves pretty fast, after that. He’s pretty sure Mitch knew he would. He still complains about it, makes Mitch get him breakfast and takes an extra-long shower just so he won’t think Auston’s too much of a pushover, even if he is.

And it’s kind of funny, or it would be, if Auston was fully awake: They’re on the bus for a grand total of ten minutes, hardly halfway into town, when the tour guide stands up at the front of the bus and turns on her little microphone. 

“Bonjour,” she says, then starts talking in rapid French. Or, like. Auston assumes it’s French. That’s how fast she’s talking. At first he kind of thinks it’s a bilingual thing, except they’re not in Canada anymore, and she doesn’t seem to be switching to English, and everyone else on the bus is nodding like they know what she’s talking about.

He turns, real slow, to look at Marns. “Mitch,” he says, and Mitch is digging in his bag, scanning through the little activities pamphlet from the hotel. He’s frowning.

“So,” he says. “It’s possible we got on the wrong bus.”

The old lady in the seat behind them shushes them, loud.

Auston sighs.

They ditch the tour group first chance they get, once they’re off the bus and the guide’s distracted showing them this statue that’s probably historically important. It kind of feels like cutting class, doesn’t help that Mitch is giggling like a maniac the entire time, tugging Auston until they’re at a flat out run, skidding into the little alley between two stores and pressing flat against the wall like they’re in a spy movie.

“Good luck finding us now, French tour lady,” Mitch says, triumphant, and Auston tries to muster up a dirty look.

“ _Let’s go exploring_ ,” he does his best Mitch voice, a little winded. “ _Let’s go on a sightseeing tour instead of staying in our nice warm beds or relaxing on the beach_. Fantastic idea, dude.” Mitch makes a face.

“In my defense,” Mitch says, “they really should have been more clear about the language thing in the pamphlets.”

“Didn’t you do French in school?”

“I didn’t actually _learn_ anything,” Mitch says, affronted, like Auston’s the one being unreasonable here. “And, okay, we have ‘til four thirty, c’mon. We can explore by ourselves.”  

“Wow,” Auston says, shoving his hands in his pockets and falling into step next to Marns, emerging from the alley to walk down the crowded path of souvenir stores and cafes. “Has anyone ever told you you’re actually a goon?”

“Hur dur,” Mitch grunts gamely, putting up his fists in an admirably awful caveman impression. “I crave blood, etcetera etcetera.”  He fakes like he’s going to throw a punch at Auston’s shoulder, lets him dodge it easy.

“Weak,” Auston chirps anyways, ignores the weird looks they’re getting from the other pedestrians.

“You’re weak.”

“You’re Finlish,” Auston retorts, ‘cause ever since Mo sent that interview to the groupchat it’s been pretty much a trump card as far as chirping Marns goes.

“Ohmygod fuck off, I was _sixteen_ ,” Mitch complains, bright red, while Auston laughs at the look on his face. Mitch flicks the side of Auston’s face, can’t quite hide a smile. “I’m dumping you,” he says. “This fake relationship has run its course, it’s not me, it’s you-”

“Etcetera etcetera?” Auston finishes, still giggly, and Mitch rolls his eyes, grinning.

“Et-fucking-cetera,” he agrees, and seems like he’s going to go on but gets distracted by the rack of bargain souvenir t-shirts they’re passing. “Oh my god.”

“No,” Auston says, because the shirts are so neon they hurt his eyes and Mitch has the worst taste in clothing in the entire world.

“Yes.” Mitch grabs one of the shirts, holding it up against him. It’s exactly as horrifying as Auston imagined, blue and purple tie-dye that says “BEACH BABE” in huge block letters.

“No,” he says again, already knowing that it’s a lost cause.

Mitch grins. “Yes. Help me check if they have a medium.”                

Auston doesn’t do that, ‘cause literal death is preferable to touching those shirts, but he watches Mitch search. “As your official ex-fake boyfriend-”

“Not ex,” Mitch says. “I’m taking you back. Shirt like this, I need me some arm candy.” He pulls a medium shirt off the rack triumphantly and marches inside to pay. That’s about when Auston figures their friendship must be pretty unconditional, ‘cause Mitch puts on the shirt straight away and Auston still goes out with him in public.

He’s just. _Happy_ , in this easy way he hasn’t been in a while, with all the stress from the season. He couldn’t really be anything else, because he’s out in the sun with one of his best friends and a fuckton of money from whatever was left of his signing bonus after his parents made him put the rest in savings. It’s not like they really splurge on anything, just the godawful t-shirt and these necklaces for Marns’ mom and Auston’s sisters, and, when they find a vendor, a couple of those coconuts filled with juice like in the movies. They’re incredibly dorky, if drinks can be dorky, overflowing with so many cocktail umbrellas and candy cherries that Auston’s not sure how much juice can possibly be inside. Mitch makes Auston take a picture of him with the drinks for instagram.

“Make sure you get my coconuts,” he says, holding them in front of his chest like they’re boobs because he’s a fucking eight year old. 

“Embarrassing, Mitchell,” Auston says, but snaps the picture anyways. “We look like such tourists right now.”

“You’re in a salmon coloured polo shirt,” Mitch retorts, taking a sip of one of the drinks. Auston’s pretty sure he’s tried both of them. “We were tourists a long time ago, bud.”

Auston doesn’t dignify that one with a response, because he knows he looks fucking bomb in his salmon coloured polo shirt; also, “BEACH BABE” is still very much a thing, so there.

They sit on a wall to finish their drinks, shooting the shit and, when the conversation lulls, watching all the locals and tourists making their way across the square. The sun’s beating down on them hotter than Auston’s felt all year, hotter than home, even. He closes his eyes and just feels the heat for a few seconds. When he opens his eyes again, Mitch is looking up at the sky, pensive. He looks nice all lit up like this, sun glinting off his hair.

 “Pretty place for a wedding,” he says, and Auston realizes he’s been staring. He coughs.

“Pretty place in general.”

Mitch looks over at him now, kicks at his ankles gently. “You think you’re going to do a destination wedding? Or stick close to home?”

“Come on,” Auston kicks him back, laughs a little. Mitch doesn’t let it go.

“It’s a genuine question!”

“Genuinely dumb,” Auston says automatically, and Mitch just rolls his eyes, too used to him to be offended. “Weddings are kind of dumb anyways, though. I mean.”

Mitch looks kind of disbelieving, now. “What, you don’t want to get married?”

“We’re barely twenty.” He realizes only after he says it that that sort of sounds like he’s talking about marrying Mitch. Which- he’s not. That’s probably outside the bounds of the whole ‘fake dating’ thing. Clearly.

 “Okay, not _now_ , obviously.” Mitch doesn’t say _not to me_. Auston figures it’s implied. “Someday.”

“I don’t know,” Auston says, and sips his drink; then, when Marns looks skeptical, “I don’t! I never really thought about it.”

“It’d be nice though, right? Liking someone enough to spend your whole lives together?”

Auston shrugs, kind of awkward. It’s not- he doesn’t think he’s ever dated anyone he likes that much. This isn’t the kind of thing he talks about with his teammates. With anyone, really. “I guess.”

“Well, _I_ think it’d be cool.” Mitch looks kind of put out, which is odd enough to catch Auston off guard. No reason for Marns to care about Auston’s views on marriage. Auston feels a little guilty anyways.

“’Cause you watch romantic comedies.”

“So do you.” Mitch plucks one of the cherries from his drink and tosses it at Auston’s head. He catches it easy, pops it in his mouth and chews it with his mouth open ‘cause he knows it bugs Mitch.

“Only because you make me.”

“You let me make you, though,” Mitch says wisely, like that settles it. And- it’s not like Auston can really argue that one, because there’s technically nothing forcing him to do the movie night thing with Mitch, and he could probably bully him into watching something different if he really tried. But he likes the way Marns narrates half the movie and smiles when the main characters get together, all soft, like it’s real. It’s a nice kind of smile, different from his usual grin. Auston would probably watch almost any movie to get that smile.           

That’d be an extremely fucking weird thing to say, though, so he just shoves Mitch off the wall instead.

“Hey!” Mitch splutters, on his back in the planter behind them, but he’s cradling his coconut and laughing so hard he doubles over, so Auston figures he gets the message.

Even dawdling like they are, browsing in all the little stores, they’re back early at the spot where the tour bus is supposed to meet. Mitch gets antsy sitting still for too long, so they walk towards the end of the pier that juts out into the ocean.

It looks like it goes on forever, this sparkling blue water as far as he can see. It’s pretty in a completely different way than Toronto or Arizona, and they stand there for a while, quiet, just looking.

“Imagine shinny on that.” Auston says, eventually. It’s kind of a dumb thing to say. He can’t bring himself to be embarrassed.

Mitch hipchecks him, gentle. “Worth leaving bed for?”

“Shut up,” Auston says, and checks Marns back only for Mitch to jump onto his back, getting him in a stranglehold.

“Admit it,” Mitch orders, all bossy while Auston sways under his weight. “You’re having _fun_.”

Auston’s too aware of Mitch’s limbs pressed into him everywhere, all sun-hot skin and the smell of sunscreen, this heady thing that should be more uncomfortable than it is. “You’re heavier than you think you are,” Auston gets out, and when Marns blows in his ear: “I’m going to throw you in the fucking ocean.”

He’s laughing, in spite of himself, and he can hear the smile in Mitch’s voice. “Dare ya to try, Matts.”

And- They’re only here, fake-dating, because Auston couldn’t say no to a bet. Mitch probably should see this coming.

“Hey,” Auston says, “can I see your phone?”

“Sure,” Mitch says. “Left pocket.”

Auston fishes it out, sets it gently down next to his own with their bags, then shakes Mitch off his back and throws him as hard as he can off the pier. Mitch shouts, startled, while he goes flying into the water, all flailing limbs.

Auston wishes he thought to snapchat this. The look on Marns’ face, fucking hilarious.

He watches, smug, while Mitch swims over and heaves himself up to hold on to the edge of the pier, gasping. His hair’s sopping wet, flopped down in front of his face. “You _fucker_.”

“Told you I’d throw you,” Auston gloats, and crouches down, extends a hand to help Marns to his feet.

He clues into the evil look on Mitch’s face a second too late, doesn’t have time to react before Mitch has got a hand around his ankle, pulling him, hard, into the ocean. 

 “Vengeance!” Mitch is treading water and chanting when Auston kicks to the surface. “Revenge is mi- hey!” He laughs, bringing up his hands to shield his face while Auston splashes at him, hard. He can hardly see with the hair in his face and water in his eyes, doesn’t notice Mitch diving down ‘til his hand is around Auston’s ankle, tugging him under.

They chase each other around like little kids, trying to dunk each other, chirping whenever they come up for air. The water’s shallow and clear enough that Auston can see the bottom if he ducks under and opens his eyes, this blue-filtered world that stings to look at too long.   

 When he turns around, still underwater, Mitch is a couple feet away, hair floating all crazy around him, cheeks puffed up with the breath he’s holding. They stay there, staring at each other underwater for a couple of seconds, the only people in the world. A little fish darts past, and Mitch gets this startled look on his face, propels himself backwards like it’s a barracuda.

Auston forgets he’s underwater and grins, then immediately starts choking on water. He can see Marns laughing at him in the split second before he surfaces, gasping for air.

“That was so dumb,” Mitch sounds positively gleeful when he comes up next to Auston, and Auston swats him away, laughing at himself. He can feel his cheeks burning, all flushed with embarrassment and something else he can’t name.

“Says the guy who’s scared of a guppy,” Auston manages to chirp. It’s not his best – He’s laughing so hard he can hardly breathe, tugging himself up to flop flat on his back on the wooden slats of the boardwalk, utterly spent.

He can hear Mitch clambering up after him, can feel the heat radiating off him when he collapses next to Auston, making a little puddle. They’re going to get burnt – if their sunscreen wasn’t worn off before it definitely is after their impromptu swim – but Auston can’t bring himself to move, just lies there and looks over at Marns, the way his dumb new shirt is clinging to his torso.  

Mitch turns to meet his eyes and smiles, this secret just-them thing that makes Auston’s stomach do gymnastics. There’re little droplets of water running down his nose and cheeks, one resting on the corner of his mouth like a dare.

“Here-” Auston says so he won’t do something stupid like kiss him, reaching over to get his phone from where he left it in the middle of the pier. “Take a selfie with me.”

“What?” Mitch gasps, all faux-shock ramped up to a million. “I, the humble Mitchell, am worthy of an appearance on Auston Matthews’ insta? Is the world ending? I feel faint-” He fake-swoons up against Auston  – what an asshole, honestly – and Auston’s kind of tempted to toss him in the water all over again, but he just jabs at his ribs where he knows Marns is ticklish.

“You’re the worst,” he says, but Mitch is sitting up and laughing at him, head thrown back with this huge smile that tugs at something in Auston’s chest.

“The aesthetic, Matts, the _aesthetic_.”

He wants to bottle this moment up and keep it, Marns bright and happy like this, so he does the closest thing he can and just snaps a picture of him with the water in the background.

By the time Mitch notices, Auston’s already put on a black and white filter and captioned it _last hurrah_.

“What’re you-” Mitch says, still all smiley, leaning into Auston’s space to look at the screen. His face does something complicated, when he sees the picture of himself. “Dude.”

“Aesthetic, right?” Auston quips, and hits post before Mitch can say anything else. It feels like something important, which is dumb – it’s an instagram post, that’s like, all he does in summer.

Mitch is looking up at him like he’s seeing him for the first time, this big thing that makes Auston sort of want to hide. He goes to put his phone away, suddenly a little self-conscious, but Mitch tugs his hand back.

“Wait,” he says, then, before Auston can react, ducks down, kisses Auston’s cheek and snaps a photo of them like that. “For Breyana,” he explains, while Auston concentrates really hard on not reaching up to touch where Marns’ lips were. “Gotta sell it.”

“I,” Auston says, and closes his mouth. That’s the second time, now. He should maybe be more used to it. Doesn’t think he’ll ever be.

The picture is almost too much to look at, the way he’s staring at Marns like he hung the sun, the way Marns is up close, lips right against Auston’s skin. He scrolls through his contacts and sends it to B automatically, fights the urge to save a copy. It’d be freaky, he figures.

He sort of wishes he could, anyways.

Auston doesn’t realize he’s been quiet until Mitch looks at him, maybe a little nervous. “Sorry,” he says. “If that was weird.”

“It wasn’t.” Auston responds too fast, and they meet each other’s gaze and look away in the space of a second, caught up in whatever the fuck that moment was.

Embarrassing, is what it was. Is. Whatever.

“Jeez,” Mitch says, and shakes his head really quick, like a dog getting water out of its ears. “I mean, shit, we’re pretty cute.”

“Ha,” Auston says. There’re a bunch of comments coming in on the picture of Marns. _go leafs_ and _follow for follow???_ and, from Zach, _y did u never post a solo pic of me on ur insta???_ “Mostly you.”

He doesn’t really think about the possible interpretations of that before he says it; doesn’t really think at all, actually, ‘til Mitch is spluttering, shocked and he realizes that that maybe wasn’t very chill. “Did you just-”

And Auston’s going to respond to that, he honest-to-god is, except then he looks at the time in the corner of his screen and starts, horrified. “The bus.”

 “Uh, not how I was going to end that sentence, but okay-”

“No, Marns, the bus is leaving!” Auston sits up, tugging Mitch with him so he can see what Auston does: the bright blue bus shutting its doors and pulling away from the curb.

“So wha- oh, fuck, the dinner!” Mitch yelps. Their eyes meet for a split second, then they’re both scrambling to their feet, grabbing their bags, racing down the pier at a full sprint and waving their arms shouting, “Wait!”

The objective part of Auston’s brain sort of wants to be embarrassed by how dumb they look, slipping on the sand and hurtling picnic blankets to try and catch a bus that’s halfway down the street; the much bigger part of his brain, though, is scared enough of getting yelled at by his mom and Alex for ruining the rehearsal dinner that he doesn’t really care.

Some of the tourists on the upper deck of the double decker bus wave down at them, and Auston’s pretty sure he sees a couple of camera flashes. So, just the opposite of helpful, really; and he’d be pissed except someone obviously gets the message because the bus pulls to a stop by the curb and the doors creak open.

“Yes!” Mitch whoops, bounding up the stairs just ahead of Auston. “Thank you, merci, gracias.” The tour guide doesn’t look impressed, but that might just be because of Marns’ French accent. It’s, like, arguably better than his Spanish accent, but in the way that getting hit by a minivan is arguably better than getting hit by a truck.

They collapse into the seats right behind the driver that are supposed to be reserved for pregnant ladies. There don’t seem to any of those around, so Auston doesn’t feel bad for slumping back against the seat, Mitch half on top of him.

There’s a second of stunned silence, then Marns starts laughing.

Auston exhales. It turns into a laugh, helpless. “Fuck.” He leans back on the headrest, giggling; ignores the dirty looks he gets from the WASP-y family across the aisle. Mitch is still draped across his side, and they’re both soaked through with saltwater and sweaty enough that it’s kind of gross, but neither moves. “God, I haven’t laughed this hard since-”

“The last time we hung out?” Mitch finishes, and he’s being funny, but he’s-

He’s not wrong.

\-------

They make it back to the hotel with twenty minutes to spare, just enough time for both of them to take the world’s fastest showers and change into dress shirts. Not ironed, but also not neon BEACH BABE t-shirts, so Auston figures they should take what they can get, at this point.

It’s maybe a good thing that they’re so rushed, because Auston doesn’t have time to dwell on the fact that this is going to be the first real test of the fake dating thing until they’re already heading into the dining room. It wouldn’t occur to him at all, actually, except that he looks over and sees Marns chewing his lip.

“You’re nervous,” he realizes, kind of surprised. He didn't think Marns got nervous. Mitch glances over at him, dry.

“No shit, dude. We have to convince your entire extended family and friends that you like me.”

“I do like you,” he says, even though he knows that’s not really what Mitch meant. “Sometimes, I mean.”

“Fuck off,” Mitch rolls his eyes, but he’s relaxed a little by the time the waiter comes to seat them, enough to grab Auston’s hand as they enter. It’s a smart move, this easy kind of affection that Auston thinks Boyfriends Auston and Mitch would definitely be all about. Fake-Boyfriends Auston and Mitch. Whatever. 

Neither of them should’ve bothered stressing: It’s pretty standard, as far as rehearsal dinners go. Lots of speeches, everyone cooing over Alex and her fiancé whenever they do something cute. Jared – the fiancé – is nice. Kind of nerdy, thought that red cards were a thing in hockey, but he makes Alex laugh, so Auston likes the guy, protective brother stuff aside.

The ‘meeting the family’ thing goes pretty perfect, which Auston probably should have been expecting, knowing Marns. He fucking nails it, all polite and coupley, any trace of nervousness gone the second he’s getting introduced to Auston’s aunts and uncles. He’s doing that thing again, where he’s all charming, and it’s like- Auston’s seen it all year, has watched everyone on the Leafs get wrapped around Marns’ little finger, and it’s still pretty amazing, the way people just love him. He wonders if Mitch even knows he’s doing it.

Auston ends up getting pulled into conversation with his godmother, and when he turns around, Marns’ seat is empty. There’s a second of almost-panic, but then his eyes find Mitch with a chair pulled up by Auston’s dad and one of Jared’s brothers, just in time to see the two of them burst out laughing at something Marns said.

Yeah, they definitely shouldn’t have stressed.

He’s jolted out of his own head when Alex drops into the vacant seat next to him.

“This seat taken?” she asks, setting down her plate without waiting for an answer. “I haven’t seen you this whole time, god.”

“You’re pretty popular this weekend, sis,” Auston quips, but pushes his seat back so she’ll have more room.

“Tell high school Alex that, oh my god,” she laughs, slides her plate towards him. “Help me finish my dessert?” 

“Not in my diet plan,” Auston says, but grabs one of the little forks and takes a bite, anyways. It’s really, really good cake. What Babs doesn’t know won’t hurt him, maybe.

Alex is leaning across the table, all conspiratorial. “So…” she says, waiting. Auston raises an eyebrow, even though he thinks he might know where this is going.

“So…”

Alex scoffs. “Your date! Your _boyfriend_! Why is this the first I’m hearing about this?” 

“Thought this weekend was about _your_ love life,” Auston tries, and she whacks his arm, exasperated.

“I want to know these things! What’s going on, there?”

He’s never been able to lie to his big sister, so he doesn’t try to. “He makes me happy,” Auston says, because that much is true, at least. Alex smiles, that knowing, ‘I’m almost a married person’ smile she’s been doing a lot recently.

“I can tell.” She messes up his hair the way she used to when he was little, even though now she has to reach up to do it. “Mom’s already planning the next wedding,”

“Shut up,” Auston says, ducking out from under her hand.

“She’s just happy for you. We all are.” She grins over at him, fond. “My baby brother’s finally getting his shit together.”

“My shit has always been together,” Auston says, stubborn, but he reaches out for a quick one-armed hug, squeezing her close. He feels a little guilty, all of a sudden, making out like he’s in a real relationship when he had to bribe his teammate with rom-coms and smoothies just to pretend to be into him. His shit’s not anywhere close to together, at least not romantically. He’s not even sure what that’d _look_ like. Some girl to stand with him at PR events, go on vacation in the offseason, maybe.

Across the room, Mitch is laughing at something Auston’s dad said, and Auston finds himself staring without really meaning to. Something in his chest softens at the sight of Marns hanging out with his family, fitting right in like he’s been here forever. It’s-

It’s not nothing.

“Don’t tell Marns,” he requests, tearing his gaze away to look over at Alex. She’s looking at Mitch as well, something thoughtful on her face. “About the ‘Mom planning our wedding’ thing.”

“Duh,” she says. “Although, honest to god? I don’t think he’d mind.”

“Ally,” Auston says, uses her dumb little kid nickname without thinking about it because he doesn’t think this is the kind of thing he’s ready to hear. That maybe comes across in his voice, because she backtracks, just a little.

“I’m not _saying_ anything, I’m just-”

“Saying,” Auston finishes, dry, and Alex rolls her eyes, grabbing for her glass to take a drink.

“You’re good for each other. That’s all.”

She says it simple and matter-of-fact, like sky’s blue, grass is green, Mitch and Auston are good for each other, end of story. And yeah, she thinks they’re together, but Auston knows his sister. She wouldn’t say that unless she meant it. And she did, so she does, and he doesn’t know what to do with that.

It feels big, like something in his chest that’s- not scary, exactly. More like confused, and then, bigger than that, this vague sense of dread for what’s coming. It’s not until the dinner’s done and he and Marns are back in their room, settled into bed, that Auston can articulate it.

“My family’s going to be sad when we break up,” he realizes out loud. He can feel Marns watching him from a foot away, keeps his own gaze resolutely on the ceiling.

They had plenty of time, during dinner and after, to request a new room with two beds. Neither of them did. Auston’s doesn’t know what that means. He’s not sure he wants to.

“It’s not like anything’s going to change, though,” Mitch says, slow. “We’re still going to be the same as we always are.”

 “Except I’m going to be in Arizona for five months.”

It takes Mitch a couple seconds to come up with a response for that one. Auston gets the feeling that the optimism takes a little more effort, this time. “That’s not that long.”

He peeks over at Mitch, meets his eyes. “That’s, like, half the time we’ve known each other, Marns.” The truth of it doesn’t really register ‘til he says it out loud, and it hangs there, heavy.

 “Oh,” Mitch says, suddenly quiet. 

“Yeah,” Auston says. “Oh.”

The whole ‘last hurrah’ thing hasn’t really felt real ‘til right this second, and it hits like a tonne of bricks. It’s- this has never happened to him before, getting so used to having someone around in such a short amount of time. It doesn’t feel like it’s been a year. It feels like it’s been forever, like Auston can’t remember his life before he had Marns snapchatting him a million times a day and driving around Toronto with him and doesn’t really want to.

He’s never wanted summer less in his life.

 “D’you remember,” Auston asks, rolling onto his side so he can look over at Marns, “that first practice, when I-”

“-broke the glass off my pass,” Mitch finishes, and there’s something in his voice Auston can’t quite pin down. “Yeah, I- I remember.” Auston returns his smile, this small, tentative thing that puts twists in Auston’s stomach, and watches Mitch sigh. “Know what this is like?”

“Hm?”

Mitch grins at him, only a little forced. “Those movies where the guy and the girl have to share a room and there’s only one bed and it’s all, like, dramatic heart-to-hearts.”

“I mean,” Auston says. “I wouldn’t really call this a heart-to-heart.”

“I know that. Just- it’s similar.” Mitch looks away, lies back on the mattress. “Forget it.”

They lay there, quiet, for a few moments. Auston listens to Mitch’s breathing evening out, voices in the hall as someone passes their room. Then: “You’re the girl, right?”

“Fuck you,” Mitch says, easy, but he smiles for real through a yawn, so Auston’s happy. “I’d be a hotter girl than you, though, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, keep dreaming, Marner.” 

Mitch snuggles into his pillows, sleepy. “Eat a dick, Matthews.” 

Auston turns away so Mitch won’t see him smiling as big as he is, this stupid-fond thing that’s basically begging to be chirped. He wants- he doesn’t know what he wants. To reach out and touch Mitch – he’s close enough that it’d be easy – to tug him in and sleep with their legs all tangled together even though it’s a million degrees out.

This is the last time they’re going to be like this, rookies together.

“I’m going to miss this when I’m back home,” Auston says, before he can stop himself.

Mitch snores, soft, from next to him.

Auston can’t quite tell if he’s relieved.

\-------

Marns is singing in the shower when Auston wakes up, this awful, off-key crooning. It’s probably not the worst wakeup Auston’s ever had, because he wakes up smiling.

Probably not even close to the worst.

There’s no residual weirdness from last night, whatever last night was; just them pushing each other around while they get dressed in the too-small room, fighting over the last of the hotel conditioner since neither of them though to bring any. Auston wins, because he’s actually in the wedding party. He leaves the last little bit in the bottle for Marns anyways, because he’s awesome like that.

Mitch wolf-whistles when Auston’s got his groomsman suit on, this navy thing Alex picked out to go with the colour theme. Auston didn’t really know weddings had colour themes. “Killing it, dude.”

“I don’t know,” Auston says, skeptical, looking down at himself kind of self-consciously. “Blue’s not really my colour.” He almost says ‘it’s better with your eyes’, but catches himself in time. Friends don’t comment on how certain suit colours emphasize their friends’ eyes, jesus.

Mitch shakes his head, insistent. “It looks good,” he says, and when their eyes meet it feels loaded, somehow. Auston gets that weird feeling again, like he’s a step behind. 

The moment passes, and Marns busies himself with his cufflinks, which are shaped like little maple leaves. They’re pretty sick. Auston chirps him for them anyways. It’s pretty cozy, just the two of them getting ready together, and that’s emphasized when they head downstairs into the utter chaos.

And, okay. Auston’s been in an NHL locker room during playoffs, and it was less stressful than this. It’s all staff running around, his dad trying to find his tie, his mom and aunties ranting in Spanish that he only kind of understands. He can see how it’d be a lot, but Mitch takes it all in stride, lets himself get herded into his seat in the family section and gamely makes conversation with the other dates, waves over at Auston ‘til he has to leave with all the other groomsmen.

He’s paired with a bridesmaid, one of Alex’s old roommates, to walk up the aisle. Kara’s nice, chats to him about hockey even though she’s a fan of the Avs. Auston’s kind of obliged to give her shit, for that.

“You know it’s bad when they make the Yotes look good,” he chirps while they’re milling around in the back room, waiting for everyone to get into place.

Kara rolls her eyes, good-natured. “Oh please, before you and your boy joined the Leafs they were just as bad.” That kind of makes Auston pause, because he and Marns haven’t actually confirmed the dating story with anyone outside his immediate family. And, like, it’s not as if they were being subtle about the whole charade. Not like he’s even really closeted, at this point. Still feels different. More real.

Kara can maybe tell he’s hesitating, because she pats his arm. “Hey, don’t worry,” she says. “You guys are cute together.”

“Yeah?” Auston asks, still a little wary. Second time in less than twenty-four hours, that he’s hearing that.

“Yeah,” she says, easy. “Not as cute as me and my girlfriend, but like. Cute.”

Auston smiles, relaxes a little more in spite of himself. “Bet we’re cuter,” he says, and then the music’s playing and they’re getting called over to stand in line. He and Kara are walking out behind Breyana and one of Jared’s cousins, and he kicks at the bottom of her dress to annoy her a little, because it’s basically his job as big brother.

He traipses after her, offers his arm to Kara and times his steps with hers while they go down the aisle. It’s outside, this long path flanked with chairs and flowers, up to this little gazebo thing where the groom’s standing, right at the edge of the beach.

Mitch waves at Auston while he walks past, and Auston can’t hide a smile, feels Kara elbow his ribs, teasing. There’re reserved seats for the wedding party right at the front, but he squeezes into the row behind without really thinking about it, takes the seat right at the end next to Marns. He doesn’t say anything, but Auston can see him smiling so it was probably worth it.

The music changes for the bride to walk in, and everyone shuffles around, looking at the end of the path.

“Oh wow,” he hears Jared say when Alex steps out, and Mitch is doing his rom-com smile, all soft, and for the first time, Auston thinks he maybe gets why. It’s like they’re intruding on this moment, like him and Marns and the rest of the guests don’t even exist, no one does, except for Alex and her almost-husband, smiling at each other while she’s walked down the aisle by her dad.

 It feels big. Auston’s never really gotten the fuss about weddings, has never been able to imagine looking at someone like that, being so caught up in them that everyone else stops existing – except then Marns is nudging him like he can read his mind, and it’s maybe not so impossible to imagine.

He sits down a second after everyone else, head spinning.  

It’s early enough in the day that the sun isn’t right overhead, which was probably good planning because he’s already sweating in his suit by the time the first reading’s done. The ceremony’s a lot like every other wedding Auston’s been to. Same script, though even he has to admit that the backdrop of the ocean adds something special.

There aren’t a lot of dry eyes left, by the time they get to the vows. Jared does the writer thing, reads this poem he wrote. Auston doesn’t really get poetry, but even he can tell that it’s really romantic stuff, lots of metaphors that get Alex all teary-eyed so she has to wipe at her eyes with a tissue before her turn to talk.

“Don’t know how I’m going to top that,” she jokes, and gets a laugh from the guests before going on. “You make me laugh,” she says, “you’re my best friend, and you put up with me dragging you out golfing and cycling and watching every season of the Bachelor. And I’m so, so grateful for that, and for you. And I promise to-” Her voice catches and she pauses, kind of laughs at herself. “God, I promise I’m always going to remember that. And love you, but that probably goes without saying. Because I really, really love you.”

Their mom and dad are all choked up a few seats down. _Auston_ is kind of choked up, which he wasn’t planning on. Just- It’s his big sister. She used to wrestle him for the remote and win, and now she’s getting married, like they’re for-real grownups. It’s like its own kind of last hurrah, he realizes, and blinks, hard.

He swipes at his eyes, kind of embarrassed, but Mitch doesn’t chirp him, just leans over, links their arms, and rests his head on Auston’s shoulder. It’s nice. Weird, kind of, but Mitch-weird, like saying ‘I’m here’ without saying anything at all.

They stay like that all through the end of the ceremony, the rings and all, right until they do the whole ‘I now pronounce you husband and wife’ thing when they have to separate to clap and join the chorus of wolf-whistles. Auston’s all caught up in it, so Marns has to shove him towards the aisle for the walkout thing.

“I’ll find you after,” he says, and Mitch nods, even though it’s probably a toss-up whether or not he actually hears Auston over the crowd.

Kara grins at him when he joins her in the aisle. “Got a little emotional, huh?”

“Shush,” he says, but he’s smiling, and when he gets back into the room where they waited, someone’s popping open a bottle of champagne.

“To Alex and Jared,” the best man toasts, and Auston raises his glass, clinks it with the people next to him. Everyone’s laughing and celebrating, the atmosphere pretty contagious, and he finds his mom, pulls her into a hug without waiting to be asked.

“She’s really happy,” he says, and she nods, wipes at her eyes all fluttery.

“I’m all a mess,” she laughs at herself, self-deprecating. “Of course, I’m not the one who sat in the wrong seat.” It’s gentle, barely enough to count as scolding, but Auston ducks his head anyways. The dating thing is probably his only excuse, here. “I’m teasing you, honey. Go.”

Auston doesn’t have to ask what she means, and he swipes an extra champagne glass off the waiter’s tray before heading back outside, navigating pats on the back and hugs from all his relatives while they chat.

He finds Marns milling around with a couple of Jared’s college buddies, puts a hand on the small of his back to get his attention. Mitch kind of startles at the touch, but perks right up when he sees that it’s Auston, which is kind of an ego boost. That also might be because of the champagne.

“Hey!” Mitch says, swiping the glass from him gratefully. “Great groomsman-ing, dude.” 

“Thanks,” Auston says. “Great sitting and watching.”

Mitch grins, absently smoothes down Auston’s lapels with his free hand. “It was a nice wedding,” he says. “She looked really pretty.”

“Yeah,” Auston says, and watches Mitch’s fingers on his suit jacket. It’s him taking care of Auston, he realizes, this little way of checking that he’s okay after getting all emotional. It’s kind of nice and embarrassing at the same time, this mess of conflicting feelings that end up resolving into this rush of fondness that Auston’s not sure what to do with.

“Thanks,” he says, reaches up to smooth back the strand of hair that's falling in Marns' face. He’s maybe imagining the way Mitch leans into his touch, looking right at him all soft. Maybe not.

Someone whacks Auston in the back of the head, jolting him back to reality. 

“Dad says to stop being cute and come get pictures,” Breyana says, already walking away. It’s like some kind of spell breaks, then: Auston drops his hand, takes a little step back while Mitch coughs, obviously fake.

“Good call,” Mitch says, and sounds a little out of breath, even though Auston can’t figure out why he would be. “With the hair touching. Didn’t, uh. Didn’t realize she was watching.” And Auston blinks, caught off guard, because he didn’t realize anyone had been watching either. Which is just-

“Yeah,” he says again, because Mitch’s hair is very soft and now definitely is not the time to be thinking too hard about this. He shakes his head, takes a quick gulp of his champagne. “Yeah, so I’ve got to-” He gestures over towards his family. “Pictures.”

“Have fun,” Mitch says, jamming his hand in his pocket and craning his neck to look over Auston’s shoulder. “I’m going to go mingle and find some of those little appetizers on sticks.”

Auston catches Mitch by the elbow before he can leave. He’s not sure what makes him do it. “Don’t flirt with any of my family members.”

Mitch glances down at Auston’s hand on his arm, fast, but not fast enough for Auston not to notice. His voice is casual as anything. “No promises. Grandma Matthews can _get it_ , dude.”

“I hate you.”

Marns reaches up and pats Auston’s chest. His hand stays there a second too long. “Love you too, sweetcheeks.” 

\-------

Auston’s ninety-nine percent sure that there’s an unwritten rule somewhere that all music at weddings has to be terrible. Still, there’s an open bar and a four course meal, so he figures he can suffer through one night of 90s throwbacks.

He and Marns have this drinking game going all through the speeches, taking a swig every time someone says something that Mitch deems a romantic cliché. Auston suspects he’s being pretty liberal with the choices, especially once they’re a few drinks in, but he can’t bring himself to mind. That is possibly also due to the drinks, but also maybe because of Marns pressed up next to him, laughing in his ear every time someone makes a terrible joke.

“We’re going to be so fucked up for brunch with your parents tomorrow,” Mitch whispers, and Auston pokes at his side.

“You’re already fucked up.”

“Shut up,” Mitch giggles, the sound lost in the applause as the best man’s speech finally finishes.

They start with the upbeat songs a little after dessert, and it takes about thirty seconds for Mitch to head for the dance floor, which is about what Auston was expecting.

“I _love_ this song,” Mitch says as soon as the first notes of YMCA start playing, because of course he does. He hovers halfway out of his seat, suddenly awkward, and Auston doesn’t really get it until Mitch says, unsure, “Are we supposed to, uh-”

“Oh,” Auston says, and his brain stalls. “Um.” He’s not sure what the right answer is in this situation, if it’d be weirder for him to get up and dance with his bro or to stay sitting and not dance with the guy everyone thinks he’s dating.

Mitch must mistake his silence for reluctance because he says, “Don’t worry, we’re not a dancey couple. It’s cool.” He winks, and Auston can’t tell if he’s offended or relieved or anything because he’s already gone, disappearing into the crowd of people dancing.

 He’s been out drinking with the guys enough to know not to expect Marns back any time soon, so he polishes off both of their desserts, watches Marns doing the YMCA in the center of a circle of kids and catches up with some of the guys from home ‘til Breyana collapses into the seat next to him. She’s looking over her shoulder like she’s being followed.

“’sup,” Auston asks. “Cops finally onto you?”

“Worse,” Breyana says, dark. “Tía Ana.”

“No,” Auston says, swiveling in his chair and craning his neck so he can look in the crowd. “She’s here?”

“Don’t _look_!” Breyana says, distraught, but it’s too late. They both make eye contact with Ana, and B musters up a genuinely pathetic wave. “Oh god, you made her come over, this is your fault.”

Auston’s already halfway out of his seat. “I think I should go see my boyfriend.” Breyana nearly falls out of her chair trying to stop him.

“If I’m stuck here so are you,” she hisses, and clings to the back of his shirt – “Let go!” “You’re older, you talk to her!” – so he can’t escape before Tía Ana is next to them, clutching his arm and ordering him to help her sit. He does, shooting B the dirtiest look he can muster. When they were little, they’d fight for _days_ about who’d have to sit with her at Christmas dinner. Drove their parents crazy.

Ana still hasn’t loosened her vise grip on Auston’s shirt. She should consider a career as an enforcer in the NHL, that’s how hard she’s holding him. “Tell me,” she says, not bothering with a ‘hello’, “you still aren’t going to college?”

“Hi, Tía Ana. No, I’m not going to college.”

“Hmph,” she says, then looks at Breyana, stern. “Don’t be like your brother, you hear me?”

“You got it,” Breyana says, ignores Auston kicking her under the table. “It’s been a while since you and Auston have seen each other, right?”

“A long while,” Ana says gravely, and from her, it’s criticism. “Remind me, are you still playing soccer?”

He’s never been on a soccer team in his life. “Hockey,” Auston says, patient, while Breyana snorts into her napkin and tries to pretend it’s a sneeze.  “Mitch actually plays too.”

“Mitch?”

“My date,” Auston says, and Ana follows his gaze over to where Marns is being taught some elaborate routine by all the little cousins.

“I see,” she says, inscrutable. “I was wondering who he is. He danced with me earlier.” And then she actually _smiles_. Breyana and Auston exchange a look, completely stunned. He probably shouldn’t be, at this point – of course Marns got the crankiest old lady in the entire world to dance. Of course he did.

 “He’s a nice young man,” Ana says. “You’re very lucky.”

 “I- yeah,” Auston says, doesn’t have to look at the dance floor to know that Marns is still dancing, cementing his status as the new favourite cousin. He feels himself smiling and can’t help it. That’s the closest thing he’s ever gotten to a compliment, from her. “Yeah, I am.”

Ana maybe gets that that’s all she’s going to get from Auston tonight, because she turns her attention to the couple at her other side. It’s kind of a relief, only now Breyana’s looking at Auston like she’s trying not to laugh.

“What?”

 “This look you get on your face when you talk about him,” she says, and then she does laugh, and Auston rolls his eyes.     

“I don’t get a _look_ ,” he says, offended. Breyana grins.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” she says. “You’ve had it since you met him. Took long enough to do something about it.”

Auston doesn’t know what he’s going to say to that, but doesn’t end up having to – someone catches him in a stranglehold from behind, and it takes him a second to realize it’s Marns, draped over the back of his chair.

“Evening, boyfriend.”

“Hey,” Auston says, and leans back into Marns a little, except then Breyana’s mouthing ‘the look’ at him and he pushes his chair back with a screech, getting to his feet. “You done dancing?”

Mitch shrugs. “Wanted to see you. You up to go get some air?” he asks, then it’s like he realizes they aren’t alone. “Or- sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s cool,” Breyana says. “We’re just glad Aus finally liked someone enough to bring them home.” Which- _Christ_. 

“I will give you the biggest noogie,” Auston threatens, reaching down to tug at one of her fancy updo-curls. B glares, ducking under his arm and scooting her chair back as far as she can without bumping into Tía Ana.  

“You’re the worst.”

“Hey, got my hundred bucks yet?”

“The _worst,”_ Breyana repeats.  “I’ll talk to you later, Mitch.”

“Later,” Mitch waves, only half-paying attention to her. He’s leaning into Auston’s side, an arm flung around his waist all casual, kind of swaying to the music. “Know what?”

“What?”

“Weddings are the fucking _bom_ b.” Mitch says decisively. “I want eight.”

Auston really looks at him for the first time, taking in the easy smile, the way he’s less-than-steady on his feet. “You’re buzzed,” he realizes, and can’t help but laugh, a little.

“I am not,” Mitch says, indignant. “I drank the same amount as you.”

“And you weigh forty pounds less.”

“Not my fault you’re giant,” Mitch says, tightens his arm around Auston. The music’s switched to some slow song, now, some vaguely country-sounding thing that Marns probably knows – no, definitely knows, because he’s singing along, still swaying into Auston. Any closer and they’d be dancing.

The thought sticks in Auston’s head and won’t go away, so maybe he’s a little drunk too. That’s the only really plausible explanation for thinking about Marns all pressed up against him, hand resting at his waist while some stupid country song plays and they slow dance like they’re in some movie and holy _fuck_ his brain is garbage.

“Air,” Auston says, grabbing at the way out like a life preserver. Mitch nods, oblivious, singing along to the music under his breath.

Auston grabs onto Mitch’s hand and tugs him along, past the dance floor and the tables to the closest exit. The double doors let them out on this little patio, empty except for a couple of people smoking over at the other end. If Auston looks down the stairs, down the little sandy path, he can see the waves lapping up against the shore in the distance.

“Air,” Mitch echoes, and takes a huge breath, content.  “Look at it, Aus.”

“C’mon,” Auston says, and pulls him over to sit at the edge of the patio, away from the doors. He lets go of Marns’ hand once they’re seated, can’t bring himself not to regret it a little.

There’s another slow song audible from inside, and Mitch is still singing, and Auston can’t bring himself not to giggle. Neither of them’s _that_ drunk, really, just enough for everything to feel easy and, just. Good. The Mitch Marner effect, maybe.

“Hey,” Mitch asks, bringing Auston back to earth.  “Was that the truth?” he asks. “What your sister said? You really never introduced someone to your family?”

“I don’t know,” Auston says, suddenly feeling too exposed. He stretches his legs out in front of him, scuffs his shoes on the ground. “No, I guess not. Like, they knew who I was dating.”

Mitch is still looking at him, steady and more sober than Auston was expecting. “But you never brought someone home.”

Auston shrugs, nudges a little pile of sand with his toes. “It seems like a lot to let someone see. Too much.”

“But not for me.”

“Not for you,” Auston agrees, and is surprised to find that he’s telling the truth. It feels too big, so he adds, “Weird, huh?” 

“Weird,” Mitch echoes, then nudges Auston’s knee with his own. “I’m having a lot of fun.” 

Auston nudges him back, knows that Marns’ll get the unspoken ‘me too’ because he’s always gotten Auston like that. It devolves into the two of them elbowing each other as hard as they can, trying to shove one another off the steps until Mitch eventually leans back against Auston’s chest, laughing up at the sky. 

Auston doesn’t want this to be their last hurrah. He can’t imagine not getting to see Marns for the whole summer; can’t picture not being able to touch him like it's easy.

It’s not nothing, he realizes, fake-dating Mitch like this. It’s really, really something.

The slow song’s finishing up, morphing into something that sounds suspiciously like the Cha-Cha Slide. So, cool, they’re just leaning right into the whole ‘wasted white people’ aesthetic, apparently. 

On a whim, Auston pulls himself to his feet and holds out a hand. “Come dance with me.”  

“What?” Mitch half-grins like he thinks Auston’s fucking around. It feels like a challenge.

“Come on,” Auston says, and lowers his voice like the guy in the song, “Cha-cha real smooth, Marns.”

Mitch laughs, delighted, but lets Auston tug him up. “Only if you promise never to do that voice again.”

 “But that’s my sexy voice.”

“I swear to actual god, Matty.”    

The music’s ten times louder when they open the doors to go inside, this thumping noise that gives Auston flashbacks to middle school dances. That also might be because of Marns’ dancing, because he’s bad. Like, really, _really_ bad. And, see, objectively Auston’s aware that his teammate doing the sprinkler isn’t a thing he should be finding adorable. It is, though, and he can’t stop smiling, doing dumb shit like dabbing to Footloose until Marns is doubled over laughing too.

“I love it when you’re like this,” Mitch says into Auston’s ear, half-yelling to be heard over the music. They’re dancing pretty close. Auston can’t tell if that’s a fake-boyfriends thing or a them thing.

“Like what?”

Mitch flushes, because of the conversation or the dancing or both. “You know,” he says, like Auston’s supposed to read his mind.

Auston raises his voice so Mitch’ll hear him, nudges his arm. “Like what, dude?” 

 “Like,” he says, loud. “All happy. Goofy. I don’t know.” He’s so close Auston can feel his breath when he speaks.

“I like when you’re happy too,” Auston says back, returning his smile. “I’m glad you’re having fun.” 

“Fun, fun, fun,” Marns echoes, giddy and mostly nonsensical, dancing all bouncy; and he looks so nice and their faces are so close that it would be the easiest thing in the world for Auston to lean in and kiss him, so he just- does.

He grabs Mitch’s face and tugs him in, and there’re probably a lot of things he should be thinking about – they’re teammates, and they’re kind of in public, and they’re leaving tomorrow – but then Mitch’s mouth opens under his and he’s kissing Auston back and nothing else matters.

Auston can feel Marns’ smile against his lips, a hand on Auston’s chest, almost possessive. He could keep kissing Mitch forever, like this; would, maybe, if he didn’t eventually clue in to the sound of wolf-whistles just over his shoulder.

He pulls back, peers behind him to find a bunch of Alex’s friends applauding, plastered off their heads. There’s a lot of ‘get it’ and ‘yeaaaahh buddy’, and Auston knows he’s blushing, is so happy he doesn’t care.

And then he looks back and Mitch isn’t smiling anymore.

He’s looking at Alex’s friends, at the floor, anywhere but at Auston, too deliberate to be an accident. He’s already stepped back, space between them that wasn’t there before, and he takes another step while Auston’s watching.

“Marns,” Auston says, this awful sinking feeling in his gut. “Did you not-”

Mitch has this horrified look on his face, and Auston doesn’t need him to speak to get that he fucked up.

“I need to-”

“I’m sorry,” Auston says, a little hoarse. It’s like a bucket of cold water got dumped over his head, like all at once he’s too sober and the music’s too loud and Marns is staring at him like he has two heads. _Fuck_. What was he thinking? “Mitch, I thought-”

“I’m just going to go for a walk,” Mitch cuts him off as if he wasn’t even speaking. His hand’s up near his face, thumb on his bottom lip where Auston’s mouth was, like he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing. It looks like he’s shaking, a little.

“Do you want me to co-”

“No!” Mitch says, way too fast, backing away. “No, just. I’ll see you after.”

“Mitch,” Auston says again, helpless, but he’s already turned his back, all but running away. 

Running away from _him_.

 _Fuck_.

He stands there, dumb, in the middle of a crowd of people dancing. It feels like the floor disappeared from under him, like he’s standing on nothing, sick to his stomach.

“Auston!” someone exclaims from behind him. Bridesmaid Kara. She looks happy to see him, also totally wasted. The two are maybe related. “Come dance with us,” she says, “We’re trying to bribe the DJ to play something by the Spice Girls.”

As if on command, the opening of Wannabe starts playing, and Auston can hear Alex shriek from the other side of the dance floor. “Kara-”

“Yes!” Kara fist pumps, “Our song!” She drags Auston over to his sister, and he’s planning to leave, but Alex looks so excited to see him, and it’s her _wedding_ , so he has to let her take his hands and scream-sing at him along with Kara, giddy.

He can’t think of anything he wants to be doing less than dancing to the Spice Girls right now, barely manages to fake some kind of a smile ‘til the song changes. He’s made it through entire hockey games with less effort, it feels like, because his whole brain is just replaying the last few minutes in slow motion. Him kissing Marns, Marns kissing him back – because he did, Auston’s sure of It – and then nothing. Like flipping a fucking switch.

He crossed a line. He crossed the line and cellied all over it and he’s the biggest idiot in the world, because Marns has never looked at him like that, this awful thing that it hurts Auston’s chest to think about.

By the time people start leaving and Auston makes it back to the room, Mitch is curled up in the armchair, asleep or pretending to be.

“Marns,” Auston tries anyways, too loud in the silent room. There’s no response. He wasn’t really expecting one. The drinks from earlier are starting to settle in – not enough to be hungover, but enough that his head hurts, this dull ache.

Auston tugs off his tie and crawls into bed, doesn’t bother changing into pajamas. The bed feels too big, empty with just him.

This was a mistake. It was a mistake maybe from the beginning, and he made it worse, and now he doesn’t know how to go back.  

\-------

So here’s some stuff Auston’s figured out, after one mostly-sleepless night:

He’s got _feelings_.

Like. For Marns. And by itself, that’s like- great, fine, explains a whole lot, in retrospect. Probably should’ve realized sooner. He could deal with it, except for the fact that Mitch definitely hates him and never wants to speak to him again. That’s not even Auston being dramatic – Mitch doesn’t even look at him when he gets up, just sits there on his phone, suitcase already packed like he’s chomping at the bit to leave.

Except- brunch.

Auston doesn’t know how they’re going to get through a meal with his family when they can’t even look at each other. It’s- not even an elephant in the room, it’s a fucking blue whale, sitting there and suffocating Auston.

 “Listen,” he says, because the silence is going to kill him before embarrassment. “Marns-”

“Stop,” Mitch says, before he can even start a real sentence. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“I kissed you,” Auston says, “we have to-”

“Auston,” Mitch cuts it. “I told you I was cool with PDA. It’s chill.”

 “No,” Auston shakes his head, “I should have asked, that was-”

 “We’re cool, Auston,” Mitch says, and there’s this finality in his voice. It’s like he doesn’t even want to look at Auston.  ““People saw it. Your sister and everyone are all convinced, so you won your bet. Let’s leave it there.”

 “I,” Auston starts and stops himself. It wasn’t about the bet, it hasn’t been about the bet maybe since they got here. It’s not fair for him to put that on Mitch, though, so he changes course halfway through his sentence, hates how desperate he sounds. “Are we? Cool?”

“Just said we were, didn’t I?” Mitch smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Doesn’t come anywhere close.

He ruined things. The fake-dating thing, sure, but maybe the friends thing as well, all because he got caught up in their stupid pretend relationship. Mitch doesn’t like him like that – he came here because he’s a good friend, and this is what Auston gives him in return. 

Walking to the elevator and down the hall feels like Auston’s walking to his executioner. His family’s going to take one look at them and realize he lied. Except then Mitch grabs his hand just before they walk into the dining room, doesn’t say anything at the look it earns from Auston.

It’s the last time Auston’s going to get to hold his hand, probably. Definitely. _Last hurrah_ , he thinks, and it sits like something heavy in his gut.

“Auston, Mitch!” his mom calls them over, waving cheerily from a table by a window. “Over here!”

There’re hellos all around while everyone shifts their stuff around to make room. Breyana’s looking kind of how Auston feels, nursing a gigantic cup of coffee with her hair pulled back in a bun.

“You two survived last night,” Auston’s dad says, cheery. “Saw those dance moves, Mitch, very impressive.”

Mitch laughs, and Auston kind of wants to cringe at how forced it is. “Ha, yeah. That’s me.”

“Next step is getting Auston out there, huh, big guy?”

“He was!” Auston’s mom cuts in. “I have pictures for the album!”

“ _Mom_ ,” Auston says, temporarily forgetting the Mitch situation in favour of crushing embarrassment. All the pictures of him in her albums are awful.

“Oh, stop, it’s all memories,” Ema waves him off. “We were just talking about how good it was to have everyone together again, it’s been so long.”

 “Did you hear, Angela and Alex’re engaged,” Auston says, and it’s enough invitation to get his parents started on all the family gossip. He gets himself a bowl of muesli, chimes in where he has to to keep the conversation going. Mitch is quiet, but he has the excuse of not knowing who they’re talking about – and it’s fine, Auston’s starting to think they might actually make it through this thing without getting caught out, until things go downhill all over again.

“Nice to see Tía Ana again, too,” his mom says, taking a sip of her tea.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Auston’s dad says, wincing, and focuses on his plate when Ema glares at him. Auston catches Marns’ eye, gets halfway to grinning before he remembers that they’re not really talking right now.

“But listen, I’ve been dying to ask,” Ema turns to Auston and Mitch, setting her mug down. “When did all this happen?”              

Auston glances over at Mitch, who’s suddenly extremely focused on spreading strawberry jam on a slice of toast. So he’s fielding this one alone, looks like. It feels like a million years since they were sitting on the plane, planning this backstory out. “Uh. Couple months ago, he asked-”

Breyana shakes her head, finally interested enough to join the conversation. “Okay, but how did you _know_?” She looks between them, leaning forward. “Like- Mitch, when’d you fall for him?” Auston’s stomach sinks. They didn’t plan a story, for that.

“B,” he says, too late. His parents are looking over at Mitch too, now, expectant. He shoots Mitch an apologetic look, still can’t get him to meet his eyes.

“Oh,” Mitch hesitates, glancing in Auston’s general direction. His mouth is set, this straight line, and Auston’s expecting him to make something up, but he says, “He, uh. He broke the glass at our first practice. One-timer.”  

And that’s-

That’s _real_.

Mitch goes on, “It’s like- before that he was all confident – like, obviously, he should be – but after the glass broke he was so embarrassed, all shy and trying to pretend not to be. _Blushing_ , like- I didn’t even know people could blush that hard.” He smiles, despite himself, it looks like, and if Auston hadn’t stopped breathing a while ago this would’ve done it.  

“It wasn’t, like, Auston Matthews,” Mitch continues. He says Auston’s name like the announcers on TSN, then shrugs. “It was just. Him. Matts.”  

They’re looking at each other, now. Auston’s not sure when they started, but he can’t look away. Some part of his mind registers his mom looking between the two of them, eyes shining, his dad and Breyana exchanging this look he can’t name; but he’s just staring at Mitch with a million questions at the tip of his tongue, turning his brain into mush.

That wasn’t fake.

Mitch coughs, drops Auston’s gaze. “And _wow_ , that was lame, I- sorry.” He gets up, pushing his chair back with a screech, almost crashing into the waiter. “I just have to- sorry.”

He practically jogs out of the restaurant, and Auston hardly has time to register his entire family staring at him, completely confused, before he’s putting down his fork. 

“Auston, what-”

“Sorry,” he echoes, pushing his chair back so he can follow Mitch into the lobby. It’s crowded, people checking in and out, and there’s this second where Auston’s standing there looking around and he thinks Mitch is gone, except then he sees the back of his head disappearing into an elevator across the room.

It probably counts as all of his offseason speed training in the space of ten seconds, that’s how fast Auston books it to get to the door. It’s video review-close, but he jumps over a suitcase and skids into the elevator with seconds to spare, stands by the wall opposite Mitch as the doors slide closed. 

“You-” Mitch says, then clamps his mouth shut, goes back to looking like he wants to throw up. Auston hits a button at random and the elevator starts going up, the whirring noise of the pulleys the only sound.

“That wasn’t fake,” Auston says. It’s a question. “Mitch.”

Mitch avoids his gaze, doesn’t even answer, and it’s like something in Auston makes up his mind right there. After this, he’s not going to see him ‘til September, and he knows Mitch, knows he’ll go back to pretending like nothing happened. Only it did, and Auston doesn’t think he knows how to go back after this, and he has to know.

He has to know.

“Do you like me?”

It takes Marns too long to answer. “’Course I like you,” he says, still not meeting Auston’s eyes. “You’re my best friend.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Auston says. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

Mitch’s eyes flicker towards him, but the doors slide open and an old couple walks in, talking in some language Auston doesn’t understand. German, maybe. He and Mitch fall silent, and Auston stays in his corner, watches the numbers tick upwards on the little screen above the doors. No elevator in the history of the world has ever been this slow.

Mitch is staring at the ground again.

It feels like a million years before they get to the third floor and the couple leaves. A family with a bunch of kids is waiting when the doors open, but Auston flings an arm across the entrance before he can second guess it.

“Sorry,” he says. “It’s out of order. Next one’ll be here soon.”

He jams the ‘close doors’ button, hears the little girl say “was that Auston Matthews?” before the doors shut – and, like, there’s probably, theoretically someplace on Earth with no Leafs fans, but this is apparently not it. 

Mitch is staring, wide-eyed. Something tells Auston that he’d be laughing if this was any other time. “Uh,” he says, which is fair, considering that Auston basically just kidnapped him. 

“Sorry,” Auston says, mostly unapologetic. Mitch shoves his hands in his pockets, turns his gaze back to the floor like it’s magnetized. 

 “You can go back and eat,” he starts, “just tell them I got sick or someth-”

“I wasn’t faking either,” Auston says, before he can lose his nerve. “When I kissed you. That was- it was real.”

“Auston,” Mitch says, aghast, like a warning.

 “I didn’t kiss you because people were watching,” Auston says, because it was probably too late for warnings a while ago. “I kissed you because I wanted to.”

And Auston’s seen a lot of things since getting to the NHL, but none of them come anywhere close to Mitch Marner speechless, mouth slightly open like he’s trying to talk and can’t quite make words come out. It’s jarring enough to take the wind out of Auston’s sails, and he finishes pretty weakly, “So. Y’know. Sorry if I read it wrong.”

It’s his turn to stare at the ground now, and he does, and that’s why he doesn’t notice Marns moving ‘til he’s standing right in front of him. Auston’s heart stops, it feels like.

“Do you still?” Mitch asks, real small, in a way he hardly ever is. “Want to kiss me?”

Auston nods, matches his tone. “I think I have for a while. Sorry if it’s weird.”

Mitch is shaking his head before Auston’s even done talking. “It’s not weird,” he says, and laughs like he can’t help himself, this bright, happy thing that’s the best thing Auston’s ever heard, hands down. “It’s- Matts, it’s not weird at all, oh my god.”

“Oh,” Auston says, and he’d probably say something else, something cooler; except then Marns is kissing him, hard, so he stumbles back into the wall. 

It takes him a second to kiss back, but he does. He really, really does. He’s not sure if this counts as their third or fourth kiss, feels giddy at the idea that he might be losing count. Mitch kissed him, is kissing him.

Mitch _likes_ him.

“Wow,” Mitch says, up against Auston’s mouth, all out of breath. Auston grins, more casual than he feels, slips his hands into Mitch’s back pockets to tug him closer because he thinks he’s allowed to do that, now.

“I get that a lot,” he says, and Mitch rolls his eyes.

“Touches the butt and immediately starts chirping, what is wrong with this picture?”

 “Romance is dead,” Auston agrees cheerfully. “Not even any George Michael playing.”

Mitch barely has time to hum the opening bars of ‘Careless Whisper’ before Auston’s cutting him off with another kiss, and another, and then he’s all caught up in Marns’ lips and his tongue and his hands all balled up in Auston’s shirt, the two of them backed up against the elevator doors so they almost fall out when the doors open with a ding.

Auston catches his balance, steadies the two of them without breaking apart. He’s a big fan of Marns’ lips. He’s a big fan of Marns’ everything.

“Brunch,” Mitch says eventually, pulling away for air with a little gasp. “We should go back to brunch.”

Auston noses at Mitch’s neck, his jaw, skin flushed hot underneath him. “Fuck brunch.” Mitch makes this breathy little sound, half annoyed and half endeared.

“Your parents are waiting,” Mitch reminds him, and Auston groans, leans into the crook of Marns’ neck, petulant. He wants to be kissing him, in their room and on the beach and every other place he can think of.

“I hate you.”

 “Sure you do, sweetie-pie,” Mitch says. Auston makes a face, but can’t quite hide a smile when Mitch goes on, “Sugar lips. Prince Charming. Light of my life. _Papi_.”

“You’re so-”

“What am I?” Mitch cuts him off, playful.

“Marns,” Auston says, and it’s not the most eloquent, maybe, not even really an answer, but Mitch is looking at him all fond so it’s mostly his fault that Auston has to kiss him again, then. It’s this gentle, almost chaste thing, so blatantly besotted that it’d be embarrassing if Mitch wasn’t kissing him back the exact same way.

The chaste thing doesn’t last too long. That part’s is also mostly Marns’ fault, the way he opens his mouth under Auston's, trails his hands down his chest like he's going somewhere. 

“My parents,” Auston reminds him a million years later, pulling back reluctantly but leaving their foreheads pressed together. They’re in a hotel hallway, next to an empty housekeeping cart. Not exactly a romantic atmosphere. “Brunch.”

Mitch traces Auston’s jaw, eyes darting to his mouth. “On second thought,” he says, and the corner of his mouth quirks up, “fuck brunch.”

Auston grins, and he can feel Marns’ twin smile against him when their lips are pressed together again. This time, no one pulls back.

So, okay. Maybe weddings aren’t so awful, after all.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] bring it to the top, by theundiagnosable](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11373414) by [lotts (LottieAnna)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/pseuds/lotts)




End file.
